Little Firecracker
by MissYuki1990
Summary: "You didn't know who you were f****** with," he muttered and climbed his bike. After sparing a single hard glance for the three burning corpses, full lips tilted into a smirk and a dismissive snort escaped them. "Way to make an entrance." AU, magic!Stiles, Alpha!Derek
1. Rumor Has It

**I claim nothing connected to the Teen Wolf Fandom.**

**HOPE YOU'LL ENJOY THIS!**

**cut**

"Damn it!" Erica roared and ripped the throat of another Hunter. She crouched over his dead body before she threw her head back and howled. She received several answering howls in return and broke into a run towards the one she recognized as her Alpha's.

She found Derek a little bit away biting the head off of another Hunter. He roared and a few of those idiots ran off in the other direction. Derek shifted quickly when Erica stopped beside him.

"Are you alright?" he asked and Erica nodded, wiping the blood off of her face with her sleeve.

"I'm fine."

They turned around when the rest of the Pack ran over to them. Derek frowned as he counted heads.

Erica, Isaac, Boyd, Scott, Peter, Jackson, Lydia, Allison, John and Melissa.

All accounted for.

"We need to talk to Deaton," Melissa said as she walked over to Isaac to tend to a huge cut he had on his side. "This is getting out of control," she muttered and Derek grunted.

It's already been 5 years since they took care of the Kanima.

Gerard ran away and managed to inform every single Hunter in the States of the Hale Pack. Erica and Boyd came back. They became a solid Pack, especially when Scott and Allison came to the old Hale house two days later and joined in.

The only thing that was off at that time was that Stiles was nowhere to be found. He didn't show up at school and he didn't answer his phone. It seemed that he had vanished into thin air. After a week of waiting for a sign from Stiles, Derek told Scott to go to Stiles' house.

It was when Scott came back when everything went to Hell.

Stiles was gone. His laptop was gone. His clothes were gone. The only thing left behind were his phone and the letter he had left to John in which he explained everything and promised that he would one day come back.

That day had yet to come.

Derek was furious.

Scott was heartbroken.

The Pack was torn.

Everything went to Hell at that point.

Sheriff Stilinski confronted Derek a few days after Scott came over. He had asked for the Bite.

Derek couldn't tell John no.

Months passed.

Werewolves and Hunters were constantly attacking Beacon Hills. Melissa came asking for the Bite next after she was attacked while Scott wasn't home. She wanted to be able to protect herself.

Lydia was a surprise for the whole Pack. After she and Jackson were kidnapped and he was unconscious she actually shifted. It seems she was much like Jackson and the iron-hard control she had over herself was stopping her from becoming a Werewolf.

They trained and they fought.

One year has passed.

There was still no sign of Stiles.

They've rebuilt the Hale house making it as safe as possible with Deaton's help.

Again they've trained and fought. They've became a close knit group. Nothing could get between them.

Two years have passed.

Stiles was still gone.

They had almost lost Allison. Her father was killed by a few rogue Hunters. Insane with grief, Allison went after them. Had Derek been a second late they would have lost her as well. She cut all ties with being a Hunter. She changed her last name, and fully became Pack.

Three years have passed.

Stiles was still gone.

Derek, Peter and John managed to integrate themselves into the town politics with John being the Sheriff, Derek his deputy and Peter a member of the Town Council. It was easier to keep track of everything.

That year they had almost lost Isaac.

He was taken by a hostile Pack and tortured to the brink of death. They wanted information on the Hale Pack because they wanted to take their territory. Isaac told them nothing. He held on long enough for Derek, Jackson and Erica to track him down. They killed the Pack. It took Isaac a week to heal.

Four years have passed.

There were rumors.

Rumors of a Medjai prowling the Underground. Deaton came to a Pack meeting to tell them everything he knew about this new possible threat.

He said that little was known about the Medjai. He knew it was a man, and that he was powerful. He didn't know when he appeared or _why_. What little Deaton could tell them was that if the Medjai ever came to Beacon Hills they would have to be very careful.

The Medjai were a powerful race. They had to be to be able to control the Spark they were born with. Everyone could see that Deaton was worried about the rumors. The Medjai were warriors; destroyers and protectors. This _new _one could mean either something good or something really, _really_ bad.

Five years have passed.

The rumors of the Medjai were no longer just rumors. They now knew he was real. Deaton contacted a few of his acquaintances. Shortly after they had sent him a blurry photo.

The Pack could barely see anything beside the fact that the man in the picture wore a red leather jacket with a hood pulled low over his face.

Soon enough they had no more time to think about the Medjai. Hunters were practically raining down on them from all sides. It came to a point where John had to put up an order that no one was allowed to be on the streets after nightfall.

The way things were going they were risking exposure, and they couldn't allow that.

What bothered them most was the fact that the Hunters didn't come looking for them. Sure, once they ran into one another, the Hunters would do their damn best to kill them, but the Pack was too strong and too well trained (courtesy of John) for the Hunters to bring any real harm to them.

"Derek?"

Said man looked at Allison. "Let's go back to the house. We need rest," he said and shifted again. "Isaac?" he rumbled and the Beta smiled at him weakly.

"I can walk on my own. I'm fine," Isaac insisted and Derek growled in warning making Isaac grin. "Worrywart," he muttered and Derek huffed. They moved towards the house as the Sickle Moon shone down upon them.

Five years have passed.

They still missed Stiles.

They missed him like they would miss the air they breathe.

They only hoped he was fine.

They only hoped.

**cut**

**Ooooooh, I remember this one. It has been the first story one of my friends has read, and he loved it.**

**Well, except for all the Derek/Stiles stuff. He loved the plot though.**

**Have to admit that I like it too!**


	2. Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf?

**cut**

The house of the Hale Pack was quiet. Derek was in his room sitting in an armchair beneath a window with eyes focused on the Moon. He looked down at his cell phone and passed with his thumb over the touch-screen.

He was no longer alone.

He was no longer angry.

He was sad.

Sad and heartbroken.

Just like everyone in the Pack, he missed Stiles.

At first he was angry that the younger man left. He was angry and hurt.

Later he thought about it, and somehow all that anger turned onto him.

Did he ever give Stiles a reason to stay?

Did Derek ever talk to him?

Did _anyone_ give Stiles a reason to stay?

The moment they were done with Jackson, and Gerard ran off, everyone practically forgot about the hyperactive teen. It took them a week - _a week_ to seek him out.

John may have said that Stiles had left the day after, but that didn't give Derek comfort. Not when he knew that if he had only came looking for Stiles - if he had only thought of talking to the teen sooner Stiles' trail wouldn't have grown cold, and they could have gone after him.

But he didn't.

He didn't.

Scott, Allison, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Jackson and Lydia lost a friend.

John lost a son.

And Derek?

Derek lost his Mate.

The Mate Derek wanted nothing with because he thought Stiles was too good for him. He gave his all, _his everything_ to keep Stiles at a safe distance.

But what good did it do?

Stiles was God knows where.

Heavens knew if he was even _alive_.

Derek growled and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

He calmed down a bit and opened his eyes again. Unlocking the screen of his phone he looked at the message he's been saving for five years now.

_Lydia and I are coming._  
><em>Hold on.<em>

The last message Stiles had sent to him.

Derek has been holding on to it for five years already, waiting - _hoping_ that Stiles would come back.

Derek wanted Stiles to come back, just like everyone else does. Not to hit him, or curse at him, or rage and fight with him.

No.

Derek wanted Stiles to come back so Derek could say that he's sorry.

Sorry for being an idiot.

Sorry for not paying attention.

Sorry for looking Stiles over time and time again.

Sorry for breaking Stiles over and over again.

Derek swallowed over the lump in his throat and looked at the Moon again. "Come back, Stiles," he whispered into the quiet of the night. The same silent prayer which rolled off of his lips countless times before. "Come back to us. Please. Come back."

**cut**

Erica nuzzled against Boyd's strong chest and he started to play with her long, blond locks.

"Do you think he's okay?" she whispered.

"Stiles?" Boyd asked and Erica nodded against his chest.

"Yeah."

"I don't know," Boyd said and Erica squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

She had been a right bitch towards Stiles. It was her own fault that he had never noticed her. She should have approached him. Should have talked to him.

She shouldn't have blamed him for not noticing her before she became a Werewolf. _She_ was the one who stuck to the back. _She_ was the one who did her best to stay away from everyone, even Stiles whom she always admired.

All Stiles ever tried to do was protect everyone.

She clearly remembered the time they tried to capture the Kanima on that rave. The way Stiles stood in front of her and Isaac as though _he_ was the Werewolf and not them, as though it was _his_ job to protect _them,_ not the other way around.

She remembered the time she and Derek came to talk with Stiles at the swimming pool. She was the one that proved to be useless. _Stiles,_ on the other hand, held Derek above water for 3 hours.

When she and Boyd ran away, _Stiles_ was the one who stayed. Stiles was the one who suffered a beating when Gerard kidnapped him. Stiles was the one who distracted the old Hunter and his accomplices from Boyd and Erica for as long as he could. He bought them time. And what did they do?

They had returned to Derek and had forgotten about Stiles.

They forgot about the one man that did so much for them.

Once they've realized that, it had been too late.

They were left with a bunch of regrets and a promise that he would one day come back.

A promise that seemed less and less believable as time passed.

Why would he come back anyway?

The only one in the Pack that _deserved_ Stiles to come back was his dad.

"Erica?"

"Hm?" She looked up at Boyd and he kissed her forehead.

"He _will_ come back," he said and Erica's eyes filled with tears.

"I hope so, love," she whispered and tucked her head under Boyd's chin. "I truly hope so."

**cut**

Scott kissed Allison's forehead and got out of their bed. He walked over to his laptop and turned it on, opening the inbox and finding no new messages. He sighed, crossed his arms on the desk and hid his face in them.

Scott knew he had no right to expect Stiles to contact him.

He had betrayed Stiles.

Betrayed Stiles' trust.

Betrayed Stiles' friendship.

Betrayed everything they invested into themselves as friends; brothers in all but blood.

Scott didn't blame Derek.

He didn't blame Gerard.

He blamed himself.

He should have been the one to contact Stiles the moment it was all over.

He should have gone to Stiles immediately.

Instead he went after Allison and Chris and stayed with them until they decided it was best for them to go to Derek.

He should have gone to see Stiles without worrying about Allison.

Instead, in his teenage stupidity, he lost the one person in his life that had been there for him despite everything. The one person who would do anything for him.

Scott shivered when he felt warm hands on his shoulders and moist lips on the back of his neck.

"Anything?" Allison asked lovingly.

"I thought you were asleep," Scott said and straightened. He turned in his chair and Allison took a seat in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, and she hugged him to her chest.

"I heard your heartbeat speed up," she spoke as she brushed her fingers through his hair.

"He's still gone, Allison," Scott whispered and Allison buried her face in his soft hair.

"I know, love."

"What if he never comes back?"

She swallowed and hugged him tighter. "He will, love. I know he will."

**cut**

John turned on his side and his eyes fell on the photo of his son taken days before he turned 16. Stiles' eyes were still so full of innocence, the smile on his face was open and wide, and he was leaning onto John who had one arm wrapped around Stiles' shoulders.

His son.

His little boy.

His Spark.

John squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He took the frame and turned it around. There was a letter attached to the back of the frame. The one that explained everything to him. The one that informed John that his son had left. The one that held Stiles' promise that he would one day come back.

John missed his baby boy.

He missed Stiles with everything he was, everything he had.

He wanted to wrap his arms around that lithe body.

He wanted to bury his face in that sweet smelling, soft hair.

He wanted to laugh with Stiles.

He wanted to cry with Stiles.

He wanted Stiles back.

"John?"

Said man looked at his lover over his right shoulder. Peter looked at him with sadness written over that handsome face.

"What if he's gone, Peter?" John asked and the man frowned. "What if he…"

"Hush..." Peter pulled John close until the Sheriff buried his face in Peter's chest.

"Stiles is a strong man, John. I'm sure he's fine. I'm sure he's on his way back to us."

"I should have tried harder," John murmured painfully. "I should have made him talk to me. I should have…"

"_We _are the ones who should have done more, John," Peter said. "_You_ were the perfect father. You did your best. Stiles was just better at worrying about you and trying to keep you safe."

John snorted at that and raised his head to look in Peter's eyes. Peter kissed John's lips and nuzzled his nose against his.

"He's somewhere out there and he's going to come back," Peter said firmly and John nodded.

"Thank you, Pete," he said and Peter smirked.

"Now, now. I'd be a poor Mate if I couldn't make my dearest husband's worries a bit lighter, right?"

John laughed weakly and pulled Peter into a hug. Peter rested his head on John's chest and sighed.

"Stiles _will_ come back, John. If he promised this to anyone else I would have had my doubts, but while he _did_ hide a lot from you, he never _lied_ to you. He always, _always_ loved you and protected you. He won't break his promise to you. He will come back."

John gulped and buried his face in Peter's hair. "Thank you, Pete. Thank you."

**cut**

Lydia looked down into the glass of cognac she was nursing in her hand for the past hour. She looked at Jackson who was sleeping soundly in their bed and a small, sad smile tugged on her lips.

While she was happy with being part of this Pack, while she _was_ close to everyone, she still missed Stiles. He was the one who saw through all her masks before anyone else.

He was the one who had taken her hand, smiled at her, and told her to get off of her ass and _dance_. He was the one who showed her that you didn't need to be cold and heartless to be successful, to have everything you might want.

And what did she do?

She forgot about him.

The moment she and Jackson were together again, she had forgotten the _one person_ that was always, _always_ there for her.

It was unbearable.

A bitter smile tilted her lips and she exed the drink.

It wouldn't help her.

It wouldn't make her feel better.

It wouldn't make her forget.

And she wished she could.

She wished she could forget about all of it and simply live normally, but she couldn't.

She _was_ happy, but there was always, _always_ something missing.

And you didn't have to go looking far to figure out what that _something_ was.

They all missed Stiles.

They all wanted Stiles to come back.

But she knew that out of all of them, it was _Derek_ who wanted that more than anyone else.

And she could understand why.

She almost lost Jackson to her own pride.

She didn't want to know how Derek felt.

Most of the Pack didn't know what she knew. They didn't know that Stiles was Derek's Mate.

Derek told her that five years ago when they almost lost Jackson.

He told her to watch out for him. He told her to keep Jackson close.

_'I wouldn't want anyone to feel what I felt when we lost – when I lost Stiles.'_

Derek didn't need to say more.

"Lyds?"

She looked up and found Jackson looking at her with bleary eyes.

"Coming," she said and went back to bed. She nuzzled against Jackson and let go of a wavering breath. _'Come back, Stiles. Please. Come back to us.'_

**cut**

"Melissa?" Isaac raised his head with disoriented eyes.

"Easy," she comforted and ran her fingers through his hair. "It's okay. You fainted because of the blood loss. Derek carried you home."

Isaac sighed and allowed his head to fall back on the pillow. "Everyone alright?" he asked and Melissa smiled at him.

"Yeah. Everyone's alright."

Isaac let go of a breath of relief and closed his eyes. "I had a dream," he whispered and Melissa took a seat beside him on his bed.

"About what?" she asked.

"Stiles," he answered, and Melissa's heart skipped a beat. "I dreamed about him coming back. I dreamed about us being complete," he spoke with his eyes closed, and Melissa fought back the tears that threatened to fall. She brushed her right hand through Isaac's soft, blond curls and he sighed.

"We will be complete one day, Isaac," she said and looked out the window at the Sickle Moon. "One day we will be."

"Melissa?" Isaac called out sleepily.

"Hm?"

"Thanks for taking care of all of us," he mumbled and Melissa laughed lovingly.

"Someone has to take care of all of you until Stiles comes back home, right? What would he say if he found his Wolves in disarray?"

"He'd kick Scott over his head," Isaac mumbled and Melissa smiled. "He'd call Derek a Sourwolf. Derek would huff at that but look at him fondly never the less. He'd hug Allison, Erica, Lydia and me with all his might. He'd fist bump Boyd. He'd ruffle Jackson's perfect hair. He'd tell Peter to be careful with his dad, that he'll kill Peter if he ever hurts John. John would be annoyed at that, but he'd hug Stiles for dear life, and they'd both probably cry. He'd hug you and ask you to tell him what everyone did while he was gone. And then he'd tell us all that he loves us… That he would never leave us again."

Melissa smiled sadly and leaned down to kiss Isaac's forehead. "And he will, Isaac," she spoke in a loving, motherly tone. "I'm sure he will."

**cut**

Amused cinnamon colored eyes gazed down at the sleeping town from the top of a high rock that overlooked the valley of Beacon Hills. A blood-red, leather, unbuttoned shirt danced on the wind. 5 necklaces with different pendants clinked as they moved, shining like liquid silver under the weak light of the moon.

Full, lush lips were tilted into a smirk, showing off an accented fang.

He took a deep breath and spread his arms to the sides, tilting his head back.

The cool night air felt so good against the naked skin of his torso. The moon's rays touched the tattoos that could be seen on his sides and they glimmered. Rolled up sleeves revealed other tattoos and the air around him seemed to fill with little sparks as he exhaled and grinned at the Moon.

He allowed his arms to fall to his sides, turned on the heels of his combat boots, and walked down towards his black _Kawasaki z1000_. Before he climbed it he spared one last glance at the Moon and smirked.

"Come out, come out whoever you are," he sang and looked into the forest. Three pairs of blue eyes appeared in the darkness, and threatening growls reached his ears.

"Seems we were lucky." One of them said and they walked out.

Three Omegas. All three of them looked dirty and ragged, and he could see that their clothes hung on their slim, underfed bodies.

"We didn't even have to enter the town to find something to eat." Another one said, all three failing to see their prey's eyes turn cold.

"I warmly suggest you turn and run," he drawled and the three laughed and howled.

"This one has some Spirit," the third one said, and cinnamon eyes turned fiery red.

"It's called a Spark." A bone-chilling smirk tilted lush, succulent lips, muscled but lean arms rose up, and he connected his thumbs and index fingers in a perfect rectangle. "And I'll give you one last warning." Dark red eyes grew colder and the air around him seemed to shift and waver. "Turn around and leave. This. Town."

The three hissed at him.

"Well!" An almost insane grin split his face, "I'll take that as no."

In the next moment the air was filled with painful screams and the stench of burning flesh. His face went lax as he watched the three Feral Werewolves burn to death.

"You didn't know who you were fucking with," he muttered and climbed his bike.

After sparing a single hard glance for the three burning corpses, full lips tilted into a smirk and a dismissive snort escaped them. "Way to make an entrance."

**cut**

"I don't like this, Derek," John muttered. "I was here earlier with the forensics. They found no traces of oil or anything flammable. It's like they _spontaneously_ _combusted_."

Derek hummed and looked around. Melissa was in the hospital. She was working the afternoon shift. Everyone else was there, and not one of them could tell what was going on.

"They were Werewolves. That's for sure," Derek muttered and wrinkled his nose. "Feral Werewolves."

"So someone did us a favor," Jackson commented and Derek frowned as looked around.

There was a scent in the air he couldn't quite place, and a shiver would run up and down his spine every second or so. Slowly growing tired of it, Derek looked around and a growl rumbled in his chest.

"Derek?" Peter asked his nephew, feeling Derek's annoyance.

"I can feel someone watching us," the Alpha growled and everyone stood at attention.

The sun was low on the horizon, but there was still enough daylight.

Lydia was about to say something when they heard thrilled chuckling echo around them.

"What was that?" Allison asked and her hands shifted into claws. Everyone was tense. They were looking around, sniffing the air, but they couldn't smell anything.

That thrilled chuckling reached them again, and they turned on their heels towards the forest.

_"I build my house of straw. I build my house of hay. I toot my flute I don't give a hoot, and play around all day."_

An excited, sly voice echoed through the forest and everyone crouched, ready to defend.

"Am I the only one creeped out by this?" Isaac muttered and Derek hissed through bared teeth, hackles rising when he caught sight of something red flashing in the hitch canopies.

"There!" Derek shifted fully before he gave chase. His Betas spread around in a line on each side of him, far enough as not to get in each other's way, but close enough to stay in each other's line of sight.

"Whatever it is, it's fast!" John shouted and that laughter echoed through the forest.

"He's playing with us!" Erica spat out furiously, jumping over a big log and landing gracefully, bursting into a high speed run without losing a beat.

_"I build my house of stick. I build my house of twigs. With a hey-diddle-diddle, I play on my fiddle, and dance all kinds of jigs."_

"He's fucking mocking us!" Jackson roared pushing against a tree and landing to Lydia's right, staying close to his Mate.

Derek howled when a tree collapsed in front of him and he jumped over it, hearing that laughter again. If he focused he could hear a heartbeat that didn't belong to anyone in his Pack. He was sure it belonged to whoever was playing with them. Its rhythm was calm; as though they weren't running from a Pack of well trained, perfectly synchronized Werewolves.

"Over there!" Scott shouted and they all took a turn. They knew they were closing in on this maniac, so they started to tighten their ranks.

Laughter echoed through the forest again and the Werewolves growled in anger.

_"I build my house of stone. I build my house of bricks. I have no chance to sing and dance, 'cause work and play don't mix." _The tone of the stranger's voice grew more sinister as they neared a clearing in the woods.

_"He don't take no time to play. Time to play. Time to play. All he does is work all day."_

All of them came to a sharp stop when their prey appeared in the middle of the clearing, the hood of the blood-red leather jacket pulled low over his face and a shark like grin stretching full, lush lips.

Derek bared his teeth and crouched, sharp fangs glowing in the sun. The man snickered and the Werewolves growled.

'He's mine.' Derek growled over the link he shared with his Pack. They crouched lower and he leaned forward, ready to attack.

_"You can play and laugh and fiddle,"_ the man's voice was carried by the wind, _"don't think you can make me sore. I'll be safe and you'll be sorry when the _**_Wolf _**_comes through your door." _

Derek roared and attacked.

The man chuckled and started to slowly raise his hands.

Lydia gasped and turned human when she saw the air around the stranger shift and twist.

"DEREK! HE'S THE MEDJAI!" she screamed but it was too late.

The Medjai crouched and jumped letting Derek slide under him, doing a somersault over the charging werewolf. Derek reared on his hind legs and tried to swipe the Medjai out of air, but the little bugger was fast.

He suddenly appeared on the ground and jumped again, slamming into Derek with an incredible force. A wave of power washed over everyone and they gaped when Derek shifted back as the Medjai crouched over him with his right hand on Derek's chest and left beside Derek's head.

He leaned forward, tilting his head to the right as though he was observing Derek.

Derek choked up a bit when his senses were overwhelmed by the Medjai's scent and raw _power_ he felt rolling off of the strange man. It felt as though Derek was enveloped in fire and ice at the same time. The Medjai snickered, leaned down, and leveled grinning lips with Derek's ear making the Alpha shiver.

"Who's afraid of the _Big Bad Wolf_?" he whispered and the Alpha roared.

The Medjai was suddenly gone and Derek was on his feet facing the Medjai who was standing in front of him with hands clasped behind his back and right leg thrown back a bit. He leaned forward standing on his left leg, and grinned at Derek. "You're good, Mr. Big Bad Wolf!" he sang through choked up chuckles, "But don't mistake me for Little Red Riding Hood."

Derek bared his teeth and hissed, and his hands turned to claws as his eyes turned red. "What do you want? You could have easily killed me. Why didn't you?"

The Medjai laughed, spreading his arms to the sides showing off a naked, muscled torso, and the tattoos on his sides and revealed forearms. "Now _why_ would I want to do _that?_" he laughed and spun around like a child in the middle of a flower-field.

He tilted his head back, and Derek's eyes widened when the Medjai's hood fell, revealing ruffled chocolate brown lock, sharp Elf-like features, and bright cinnamon eyes.

Derek's breath hitched in his throat and he turned fully human again.

_It can't be,_ he thought as the Medjai grinned. "Impossible..." Derek breathed out and knees failed him.

The Pack was breathless as they watched their Leader - their _Alpha_ fall on his knees in front of the Medjai. They couldn't see his face. All they could see was Derek's wide, shock filled eyes, and all they could hear was the Medjai's laughter.

What they heard next made their hearts stop and all their minds go blank.

"Stiles?"

The 22 year old grinned. "That's right, Mr. Alpha Wolf!" The maniacal song echoed through the strained silence. "Stiles Stilinski is _back in town_!"

**cut**

…**.**

**I have no idea how I wrote this**

…

**Kono Stiles wa kowai!**


	3. Torn

**cut**

Stiles snickered and hopped on his left leg while everyone stared at him in shock.

"I thought you'd either kill me or hug me, not _stare_ at me," he drawled teasingly.

In the next moment the air shifted.

Stiles turned on his heel in time to have his father hug the living daylights out of him. He laughed and returned the hug with just as much vigor. "Take is easy, pops! I'm still human here!"

"You're back!" John cried out and Stiles tensed up when John shivered within Stiles' hold. The Medjai's stature changed and he hugged John tighter. "You're really here. You're back," John whispered brokenly and Stiles snickered again.

"I said I'd be back, didn't I?" he drawled and John pulled away, growing and taking a swipe at Stiles' head only to miss and have Stiles hop away backwards, teeth bared in a shark-like grin, amber eyes glowing with mischief and low chuckles vibrating within well defined chest.

"You'll need to be a bit quicker to get a swipe at me, daddy dearest!" his voice was low and dark, although the undertone was teasing.

John growled at Stiles before smiling and relaxing slowly, while Stiles snickered and leaned forward with his arms on his back. He leaned to the left a bit to look at the rest of the Pack standing behind John. They were rooted to their places with their mouths wide open and disbelieving countenances.

"Really, guys! You're acting as though you've seen a ghost!"

In that moment Lydia growled and ran forward. Stiles grinned and jumped to the side as she attacked him with claws out. "You IDIOT!" she roared and Stiles cackled, dancing around her as though she wasn't trying to kill him, but just playing with him. "FIVE YEARS! You were gone for FIVE YEARS!" she screamed, only to gasp when he grabbed her waist and raised her above his head as though she weighed nothing. "PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN, YOU IDIOT!"

Stiles laughed, threw her in the air and he caught her in his arms bridal style. "Good to see you too, Lyds," he grinned at her. She took a swipe at his head and he let her go to dodge, and she crouched in front of him only to gape when she couldn't see him anymore.

She heard cackling and turned around, only to find Stiles resting against John with an arm thrown over John's shoulders. "Na-ah-ah!" Stiles sang and shook his index finger at her. "Be a good little she-wolf-…" his eyes darkened and he grinned gleefully, "and _sit_."

Lydia was suddenly - quite literally - rooted to her spot.

"What did you…" she was interrupted by Stiles snickering and pushing himself away from John.

"Sorry, wolf princess. I don't feel like having my head chopped off," he teased.

"Is that really you?"

Stiles turned on his heel and grinned at Scott. "Sure am, Scotty! What? Don't recognize me?"

In the next moment Stiles was tackled to the ground with Scott, Isaac, Allison and Erica on him hugging him tightly, while Peter, Boyd and Jackson walked over to stand beside John.

Derek finally managed to move and stood up on shaky legs. He walked over to Peter, Boyd, Jackson and John, and watched as his Betas practically strangled Stiles with their hugs.

"It's been AGES!" Scott shouted.

"You could have called!" Allison cried.

"We were worried to _death_ about you!" Isaac whimpered.

"You're an _idiot_, Stiles Stilinski!" Erica yelled.

Stiles only laughed at them.

Derek swallowed over a lump and tensed up a bit when John placed his hand on Derek's shoulder. The Alpha looked at John and couldn't help but smile when he saw the happiness and relief in John's eyes.

"He's back," John whispered and Derek nodded.

Yeah.

Stiles was back.

But something was telling him their troubles were only beginning.

**cut**

"Where were you, Stiles?" Isaac asked.

They were in the living room of the Hale house. The Pack was seated around the room while Stiles stood leaning back against the fireplace with arms crossed over his chest. He looked relaxed although it seemed like he was constantly vibrating with endless energy.

"Up and about," he said and shrugged.

"Why did you leave anyway?" Lydia asked snappishly. "Do you have any idea how we felt? How your dad felt? The only thing you left behind was a lousy LETTER and…"

"Would you have let me go if I said I was leaving?" Stiles interrupted Lydia and she snapped her mouth shut. Stiles grinned at her, and his eyes flashed blue for a second.

"But _why_, Stiles?" Scott asked with big puppy-dog eyes pointed straight at Stiles.

"Because I was useless," Stiles stated and that started an avalanche of outrage. "YO!" Stiles snapped and everyone shut up. "I said I _was_ useless. I'm _far_ from useless _now_."

"Where did you go?" Derek asked and Stiles looked at him. The Alpha suppressed a shiver when Stiles' eyes glowed before he smiled.

"I went to the Sahara desert. While I was researching mountain ash I came upon this little, barely visible section about the Medjai. After we've dealt with Jacks, and when Gerard ran off, I knew I had to do something. I doubted Derek would have given me the Bite, so I packed up and went looking for a different way to make myself stronger."

"Why did you think I wouldn't give you the Bite?" Derek asked in confusion, and Stiles grinned at him.

"Why would you want a weakling in your Pack?"

"Hellooo!" Erica sang and everyone looked at her when she wriggled her fingers. "Not exactly the strongest person in the world."

Stiles snickered, thin shoulders shaking and eyes glowing red.

Everyone was slightly creeped out by how he acted.

This wasn't the Stiles they remembered; physically, mentally or in any other way. The only thing that proved it was him was his stunning pair unique eyes.

This Stiles was confidant in ways not one of them was. He radiated power and strength, and if they were completely honest, he seemed somewhat insane. The grin that was almost constantly stretching those full lips creeped them out a bit, and his eyes were filled with so many different emotions they couldn't _hope_ to name them all. The air around him seemed to vibrate with some sort of static electricity. It seemed it was constantly snapping with it.

"And yet Alpha dearest offered _you_ the Bite, didn't he?" Stiles said and his eyes flashed blue again.

"What the fuck's wrong with you, Stilinski?" Jackson bit out and Stiles grinned at him.

"Now, what could you be talking about, Jacks?" he asked and Jackson growled.

"There's something _off_ about you. And what the hell's wrong with your eyes?"

"It's called having the Spark, Jacks. It's called _having_ and _controlling_ it. Of course it comes with a certain _p__rice_, but I think it's neglectable." Stiles waved it off, and everyone frowned in worry.

"Price?" John asked in a wavering, fear-filled voice. His heartbeat sped up in sudden panic and Stiles laughed lightly.

"Don't worry so much, daddy-oh," he said. "It ain't like I'm _dying,_" Stiles drawled and grinned when everyone tensed up. He seemed amused by their reactions.

"Then what's wrong with you?" Derek asked and Stiles tilted his head to the left, his eyes focusing on Derek again.

"Think of it like this. My body is an endless well of pure, unrefined energy. It constantly fluctuates and grows. When I Use, I spend it. When I _don't_ Use, it needs to manifest _somehow_."

"Use?" Peter asked. "I think I'm not the only one who'd noticed the capital 'u'."

Stiles _giggled._He actually _giggled_!

"Yeah. Like the way I made Derek shift back to Human form or how I made Lydia unable to move..."

"Or the way you burned those three Werewolves last night," John spoke, and Stiles smirked at him. He tilted his head back a bit and his eyes grew cold, almost _gleeful_, before his irises changed color to the one of fire making Peter and Derek shiver and the rest of the Pack tense up. When he spoke his voice was low and filled with so much power everyone shivered.

"They didn't know who they were fucking with."

"What happened to you, Stiles?" Allison asked in apprehension.

"I've seen so much, Allison," Stiles spoke and excitement filled his voice. "It took me almost a year but I found them. I found the last of the Medjai. They are _incredible_." Stiles' body was wrecked by a shiver, and he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself. "They are like – like _pure energy_. It took me three years, but I learned _so, so __much_. They taught me everything they knew. They gifted me with _so much knowledge_ and _power_, it's _incredible_." He opened his eyes and grinned. "I almost stayed longer. There's so much _more_ to learn!"

"Why didn't you?" Jackson asked bitterly and Stiles snickered.

"I promised to come back, didn't I?" he said. "All power comes with a price, Jacks. Had I stayed a bit longer I wouldn't have been allowed to leave. You have _no idea_ how many oaths I had to take to be able to come back."

"Oaths?" Isaac asked and Stiles nodded.

"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. After my naming ceremony…"

"Naming ceremony?" John interrupted.

"It's the final ritual to becoming a Medjai. You receive tattoos that designate what _kind_ of Medjai you are and you get a new name."

"Tattoos?" Boyd asked and Stiles grinned.

He pushed away from the fireplace and took off his red jacket. His necklaces clinked as he turned around showing the jagged blue lines that went all over his back and covered his shoulders and arms. They twisted, and turned and glimmered under the soft light. Three of them were at equal lengths down his spine with the first one settled just on the nape of his neck, mostly covered by the straps of his necklaces, the second in the middle of his back and the third on the small, while two were placed on either sides of the second mark.

"What do those symbols mean?" Lydia asked, already in study mode.

"Fire, Water, Earth, Air and Spark," Stiles recited and pulled his jacket back on.

"Are you allowed to tell us your name?" Peter questioned and Stiles grinned.

"Technically it _is_ my name now." To their surprise he sunk to the floor with legs crossed and hands on his knees. "It's Zéev Al Abaddon."

"It sounds Arabic," Peter muttered and Stiles nodded enthusiastically. "All Arabic names have meanings." Peter shot Stiles a pointed stare.

The 22 year old grinned and stood up only to hop in his place with his hands clasped on his back.

"What does it mean?" Isaac asked.

Stiles snickered with a huge grin on his face. He was about to answer when the front door opened and Melissa shouted she was home, only to choke up. A second later she was in the room, her wide eyes pointed at Stiles.

"Evening, Mrs. McCall!" Stiles called out only to find himself with an armful of an excited, happy woman.

"You're back," she whispered and Stiles snickered. She moved back and cupped his face, taking a good look at him. "What did you do to yourself?" she muttered as she caressed his face with her thumbs, looking at the three triangles under Stiles' right eye.

"Made myself much better," he said and she frowned with a sad glimmer in her eyes.

"There was never any need to make you _better_," she whispered and Stiles raised an eyebrow at her.

"I beg to differ," he drawled.

Melissa tsked and moved back a little. "Let me look at you."

Stiles laughed as he spun on his right heel. "Like what ya see?" he asked and Melissa shook her head with an amused smile.

"Could do without those tattoos." Stiles snickered and flailed before he bowed low at Melissa. "And you're skin and bones!"

"Hey!" Stiles snapped and pouted indignantly. "I'll have you know that's pure muscle. I burn fat the moment I _see_ it." Melissa laughed at that and shook her head while Stiles grinned at her widely. She raised an eyebrow when she saw he was constantly hopping in place.

"Hyperactive much?" she asked and Stiles' grin split his face.

"I have a lot of energy to burn off."

Everyone either choked up or raised eyebrows at him.

"_How_ did they manage to stand you again?" Erica asked and Stiles winked at her.

"Shahzad had a few good ideas how to make me spend some of that energy," he drawled and the temperature dropped heavily in the room, a low growl making everyone but Stiles tense up. The Medjai raised an eyebrow and looked around in confusion. "What was that?"

"Jackson, Boyd, Isaac. It's your turn for scouting duty," Derek bit out and the three jumped up and disappeared in a heartbeat.

"Lydia, Allison, Erica, I need to talk with the three of you," Melissa said and walked out of the room.

"But I wanna see this!" Erica whined as Allison and Lydia dragged her out.

"John, Scott. I think we should check out the runes on the house," Peter said and grabbed John's arm while Scott frowned in confusion.

"But we did it y…"

"Come _on_, Scott!" Peter pressed out through his teeth, grabbed the teen and pulled him out leaving Stiles and Derek alone in the living room.

Stiles hopped in his place and looked at Derek with a grin. "What is it, Derek?" he asked and the Alpha glared at him.

"You and I. We need to talk," Derek bit out.

"I thought my _dad_ was supposed to rage and roar at m…"

"YOU LEFT!"

Stiles suddenly found himself slammed against a wall with a claw around his throat and Derek's red eyes glaring into his.

Stiles suddenly grew serious and his eyes glowed icy-blue. "Step back, Alpha," he murmured and Derek sneered at him.

"We thought you were _dead,_" Derek pressed out through bared teeth. "For _five years_ we've seen neither hide nor hair from you. For _five years_ we worried and suffered and pinned after you, and you come back all smiles and laughter as if you've been having the time of you fucking LIFE!" Derek roared only to find himself on his back with Stiles on him, rage written all over his face.

"Do you think I was having _fun_?!" he hissed threateningly. "I left because I didn't want to get in your fucking way anymore! I didn't want to be the useless, hyperactive _kid_ that needed to be fucking saved every _fucking_ time!"

The temperature in the room dropped drastically, and Derek's breath hitched in his throat when he noticed Stiles' tattoos glowing like liquid mercury.

"Do you think training with the Medjai was _easy_?! They disassembled and reassembled me so many times I lost myself more times than I care to _count_! I was reduced to a pile of pain and memories so many times I thought I'd lose my mind, and for _what_?! So that _you_ would rage and scowl at me when I came back?!"

"You didn't have to leave!"

"I would have been killed had I stayed!"

"I would have turned you! You only had to ask!"

"You _knew_ I was your Mate! Why didn't you _offer_?!"

Derek's breath hitched in his throat and the temperature returned back to normal. The room was covered in a thin layer of ice, and both he and Stiles were covered in sweat making their bangs stick to their foreheads.

"How do you…"

"I found out during my training." Stiles' voice suddenly sounded hollow. He disappeared for a second only to appear beside the window.

Derek climbed to his feet and looked at Stiles. The younger man was vibrating with the energy trapped within his body. It looked as though he was barely holding it in. "I didn't want you to know," Derek spoke in a strained voice. "If it were my way…"

"I never would have found out," Stiles finished for Derek and turned to face him, and Derek shivered when he saw the smirk on Stiles face and the darkness in those expressive eyes. "You're a bastard, Derek," he drawled and Derek frowned at him. "Did you ever _think_ that if you told me, then maybe - just _maybe_ I wouldn't have left?"

Derek froze in his place and his mouth snapped shut.

"I. Loved. You." Stiles stressed out as he walked towards Derek in a slow prowl. "I _wanted_ you."

Derek gulped as cold shivers ran down his back. "Stiles…"

"_You_ have no right to be angry with me, _Derek Hale_," Stiles hissed, stopping right in front of Derek. His sweet smelling breath fanned over Derek's face making warmth pool in his lower abdomen. "If _anyone_ has _any_ right to be angry with me it's my dad, and I don't see him slamming me against walls and growling in my face. You, Scott, Lydia, Erica, Allison, Boyd and Jackson have _no right_ to be angry with me. I had _nothing_ with you besides a few times we cooperated, and let's be real… It was because I was a stupid little kid who wanted _any_ sort of attention. I _left_ because I wanted to get stronger. I wanted _you_ to see what you've missed, what you _could have had_ had you only had the balls to ask."

Stiles grinned darkly and took a few steps back, eyes glimmering with something unnamed at the sigh of shock, guilt and sorrow written all over Derek's face.

"You don't frighten me, Derek. Not anymore." Stiles spread his arms to the sides, letting go of a slow, deep snicker. "I'm a Medjai," his eyes glowed blue "you don't get much better than this."

In that moment the air around Stiles flashed and when Derek managed to open his eyes he realized the younger man was gone.

"FUCK!" he roared and all but ran out of the living room.

Derek ran out of the house, shifted and ran into the forest.

'Damn it!'

He ran faster and faster.

'You said you wouldn't argue!' he raged at himself. 'You said you'd – you said you'd make things right! You said you'd CHANGE!'

His heart burst with pain as he ran further and further away from the Hale House.

And a heartbreaking howl echoed through the night.

**cut**

Peter, John, Scott, Allison, Erica, Lydia and Melissa jumped in their places when Stiles materialized in front of them from mercury colored mist.

"Well, that went well!" he grinned at everyone.

"I think _our_ definition of _'that went well'_ and yours don't quite see eye to eye," Peter drawled and Stiles' grin grew bigger.

"Ah well! We'll see how things go from here." He all but threw himself in the only free chair in the room with legs thrown over one armrest.

"What do you plan to do now?" John asked and Stiles shrugged almost uncaringly.

"I'll go back to where I'm staying and _try_ to find a way to get rid of all this extra energy. I'm a bit pumped right now." He snickered with his shoulders shaking and his slightly longer-than-normal fangs attracted everyone's attention.

"Where you're staying?" John asked weakly. "Won't you…"

"I don't think Mr. Big Bad Alpha Wolf would be all that happy with me staying here," Stiles drawled with a smirk.

"But he…"

"Will be taken care of," Lydia said after she elbowed Erica under her ribs.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her before he shrugged and stood up.

"Do you want me to take you to wherever you're staying?" John asked and stood up as well.

"Nah. You need to get your rest," Stiles said and John rolled his eyes.

"I'm a Werewolf now, Stiles." All of a sudden the Medjai's eyes flashed with something they couldn't define and he snorted, one corner of those succulent lips tilting up sardonically.

"Yeah. I know." He rolled his shoulders. "I'll see ya all tomorrow, kay?" he grinned and disappeared in that mercury mist again.

For a few moments silence reigned over the room.

"Did all that really happen?" Melissa asked.

"He's back," John whispered and took a seat heavily. "He's really back."

Peter took a seat beside him and placed his hand on John's shoulder. "He's back, John," he said with a small sad smile. "Your little boy is safe and sound."

"He's not so _little_ anymore," Erica smirked.

"He's not _Stiles_ anymore," Lydia bit out and everyone in the room frowned.

"He was right though." Everyone looked at Scott. "When he said that we would have never let him leave. He was right." He frowned and bit into his right thumb. "But I don't think that's the problem."

"And what is?" Allison asked and Scott snorted.

"The fact that no one was there to stop him from leaving."

Everyone was surprised when Deaton spoke up from the doorway.

"When did you get here?" Peter asked.

"And why didn't we smell you?" John asked in a low growl. Deaton smiled calmly at them and raised an amulet that hung around his neck.

"I just wanted to test this. It's supposed to make me completely unnoticeable," he explained and the Pack exchanged glances.

"Well, it works," Erica said, relaxing a bit again, and Deaton smiled.

"So!" He leaned against the doorframe. "Stiles is back."

"You don't sound all that surprised," Melissa noticed and Deaton offered them an apologetic smile.

"Let's just say I had it on good authority that he was coming home."

"You knew all along," John concluded and Deaton nodded.

"I was bound by the rites of the Covenant to keep quiet," he explained. "I cannot reveal any real information until the Medjai decides to come out." John gulped but nodded, knowing that he couldn't blame Deaton for anything. "He's quite different, isn't he?" Deaton asked and everyone nodded.

"It's like he's not Stiles anymore," Erica said.

"You have to understand that the Medjai training is rigorous. There are many who don't survive it." Everyone tensed up on that. "Did he show you his tattoos?"

"It looks more like one big tattoo to me," Scott muttered and Deaton laughed quietly.

"To someone who doesn't know what to look for and _how_ to look for it, it may seem that way."

"He has five symbols on his back. He said that they stand for Fire, Water, Earth, Air and Spark." Lydia looked at Deaton only to raise an eyebrow when she saw that his mouth was open in shock.

"Impossible," he muttered.

"Why do you say so?" John asked but Deaton ignored it.

"Are you _certain_ there were _five_ symbols?" he asked and everyone nodded while John frowned in worry.

"Yeah, we're pretty sure," Lydia drawled sarcastically. "There were five symbols."

"Why do you ask?" John asked and Deaton frowned raising his right hand to take a hold of his chin with his thumb and index finger.

"That's unheard off," he muttered. "I mean, in all of history the only Medjai who had managed to leave the Secret Sanctum were those with one to three symbols. A Level Five is two steps under a Master Medjai."

"You'll have to draw it for us," Erica muttered, eyes wide with confusion and interest, and Deaton looked at her.

"What did he tell you?" he asked.

"Let's pretend he told us _nothing,_" Lydia said and the others nodded.

"Medjai are Mages," Deaton said. "They are people with a powerful enough Spark to control the Elements. With training and discipline, and once they pass Level One which is an Earth Medjai, they can learn to control other elements. Earth is the easiest one to master because it's everywhere. Next is Water. After that is Air and then comes Fire."

"What about the Spark? I mean, I get the other things, those are Natural Elements, but what _is_ the Spark?" John asked.

"The power of Will," Deaton said. "It moves everything. You need Will to control the elements, but to control the Spark itself, you need _more_ than that."

"Just…" John licked his lips and gulped. "Just how _much_ more?"

Deaton frowned and looked at the floor. "I don't know everything. I know only the rumors. Like I said, not many survive the training. Those who do either stop at Level Three or go all the way up."

"Why do they stop?" Melissa asked.

"Because with each Level the training grows harder."

"We heard Stiles when he was arguing with Derek," Scott spoke up. "He said that they _'disassembled and reassembled' _him. What did he mean by that?"

"The Medjai are above human, Scott," Deaton spoke looking at the Beta with darkened eyes. "To control the Elements your Will must be stronger than that of the Element you're trying to control. Many think it impossible. It's something that is engraved into our minds, our DNA. The reason why many don't survive the Medjai training is because they lose their minds. The Elements overpower them and they break under the pressure."

"So if the Spark is the Ultimate Will…"

"Then Stiles had to overcome a lot of obstacles," Deaton finished for Peter and nodded. "He had to destroy and rebuild himself from scratch. The fact the he controls the Spark means that he can control the Will of everything and anything in this world besides a Medjai of a higher Rank."

"That would explain why Derek shifted back when Stiles attacked him," Lydia concluded and the others nodded.

"And why he seems insane," Erica muttered and shivered wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Insane?" Deaton asked with a frown.

"I wouldn't say _insane,_" Peter laughed lightly. "Just _overly energized_."

Deaton nodded. "It's the power within him. To be perfectly honest I'm surprised the Council allowed him to leave the Sanctum. The power he wields is immense."

"Why wouldn't they let him go?" Allison asked and Deaton looked at her.

"Because, dear Allison, to control the Will means to control the person."

The air became heavy around them and they all tensed up.

"What goes above _that_?" Scott asked and they all froze when they saw shadows cross Deaton's face.

"The control over Life and Death, Scott," Deaton spoke gravely. "And to control either one of them, you have to pay the price."

John tensed up and his mouth went dry. "What _is_ the price?" he asked weakly.

"Power corrupts," Deaton cited. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely. If a Medjai reached that level then they are forced to stay in the Sanctum."

"What if they manage to leave?" Melissa asked and Deaton sighed.

"Then they are bound by the Rites of the Covenant never to use that power."

"What would happen if they would go against the rites?" John's voice was wavering and he was pale, and Peter placed his left hand on John's right shoulder in quiet comfort.

"Then they would pay the _ultimate_ price," Deaton spoke sadly. "And trust me; you better _hope_ Stiles is only a Level Five."

"Why?" Peter asked.

"Because if he _isn't,_ and he's brought to using either one of those powers, you wouldn't have to worry about him leaving." He looked at the frightened group. "You would be burying him."

**cut**

**Maaaa, maaaa!**

**Why did I ever write something so sinister?!  
>I don't like it!<strong>

**KOWAI!**


	4. Life And Death

**cut**

**THE POEM FEATURED IN THIS CHAPTER IS 'PREMEDITATION' BY MARK R. SLAUGHTER (Copyright© Mark R Slaughter 2010)**. **I CLAIM NO RIGHTS TO IT.**

**cut**

"What's with all the sourpuss faces?"

Everyone stilled when Stiles' voice broke the heavy silence reigning over the Pack.

"Stiles! I thought you wouldn't come!" John rushed over to hug Stiles, and the younger man ginned and hugged him back before he looked around with a raised eyebrow.

"Where's Derek?"

"Derek hasn't come home yesterday," John said and Stiles pursed his lips with a thoughtful frown.

"And that's why you're looking over the maps of Beacon Hills and planning a search party? Isn't it the practice in Police not to start searching for someone until they're missing for more than 24 hours?"

"Derek always comes home by midnight," Scott said and Stiles looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Besides, we already went looking for him last night," Jackson said.

"And what did you find?" Stiles asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Nothing," John said. "We followed his trail to here." He walked over to the table and pointed at a black dot on the map. "His scent vanishes there. We found nothing. It's like he vanished into thin air."

To the surprise of everyone in the room Stiles bit into his bottom lip, his slightly accented fangs catching on to it. He looked up and everyone shivered when they saw his fire colored eyes. "Are you _sure_ he's not just sulking somewhere? As much as I remember, he was prone to doing that."

"Not since you left," Scott said and Stiles looked at him. "Derek changed. I don't know what got into him yesterday that he attacked you like that, but he's a different man."

Stiles pouted with doubt in his eyes. "I haven't gotten that impression," he mumbled almost _petulantly._

"That would be because you were _gone_ for five years," Jackson said only to find himself hanging upside down in the air with Stiles' face barely an inch away from Jackson's.

"I don't like your tone, Jacks," Stiles spoke in a playful tone, but no one missed the threatening undertone. "You may remember me as an easy to bully kid, but you should remember that I have spent the past five years becoming something Werewolf mothers scare their naughty little children with." Stiles' voice was deceivingly sweet, and he grinned dangerously, showing a line of perfect teeth. "So _shut your snout _or I'll _shut it _for you." Jackson yelped when he fell and Stiles turned his back on him, grinning at everyone as though he didn't just threaten Jackson, head tilted to the right with an air of innocence around the Medjai.

"I'll help you find him, but if he's just somewhere hiding I call dibs on tattooing 'Sourwolf' on his pert little ass." He started walking towards the exit of the house.

"You can find him?" Peter asked and Stiles looked at him over a shoulder, eyes glowing emerald green and an insane grin tilting lush lips.

"Trust me, step-daddy," he snickered and Peter and John tensed up. "_Nothing_ can hide from me."

**cut**

The Werewolves stood in a wide circle around Stiles. They were at a clearing some 10 miles outside of Beacon Hills.

A fair distance away from their borders.

A fair distance away from safety lines.

The Medjai was in the middle of the clearing, looking around as though he was taking an afternoon stroll in the woods, unconcerned and untouched by anything.

"Can you get to it?" Erica called out to him, worried and annoyed.

"Don't rush a miracle man, Catwoman!" Stiles called out to her. He pushed the bottom edges of his coat behind himself and kneeled, resting his left hand on his knee while he placed his right flat on the ground. "You'll get rotten miracles." He closed his eyes and bowed his head a little. The Werewolves frowned and for a few long moments nothing happened.

Isaac looked away from Stiles with a confused frown, glancing around in wonder.

"What is it?" Mellissa asked.

"It's grown quiet," Isaac muttered, drawing everyone's attention away from Stiles. "Too quiet."

In that moment a wave of power washed over them and they almost lost their balance.

Stiles' eyes snapped open and they were glowing green.

"Oh God," Allison gasped.

Green veins traveled up Stiles' hand and under his sleeve only to appear again on his chest. They continued to spread until they climbed up his face and under his hair until they faded into his eyes.

"Stiles!" John was about to run forward but Peter grabbed him and stopped him.

"He knows what he's doing, remember?"

"But – But that isn't… "

"Normal?" Peter snorted. "There's nothing normal about him anymore," he muttered and John frowned at his Mate. In that moment they were pushed forward by that same wave of power that pushed them back earlier, and Stiles took in a deep breath as his eyes turned normal again and the veins disappeared.

"Okay," he gasped. "Fuck…" He stood up and swayed a little. "Guys, we have a bit of a problem."

Everyone ran over to him.

"What happened?" Scott asked while Stiles rubbed his head with his hands and wrinkled his nose. "Well first, I won't get to tattoo 'Sourwolf' on Derek's ass," he grumbled and the Werewolves rolled their eyes at him.

"He was taken?" Isaac asked in a panic filled voice.

"Not just taken, pup," Stiles pressed out through his teeth. "He was overpowered and _then_ taken." He let go of a low hiss and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. "Damn, my head is _killing _me," he grumbled only to raise his head when John placed his left hand on Stiles' forehead.

"Hush," John said before Stiles had the chance to say anything and Stiles' eyes crossed when black veins traveled down John's forearm.

Stiles grinned at John when his dad lowered his hand and frowned a little.

"Okay." John swayed for a second before he looked up and everyone gaped when his eyes turned silver for a second. "What the _hell_ was that?"

Stiles snickered. "_You_, daddy dearest, just got a taste of the Spark," Stiles grinned while John looked at him with amazement.

"You feel _that_ _all the time_? And did you say just a _taste_."

Stiles snickered and patted John's shoulder. "Multiply it by a hundred and you might get close."

"As fun as this is, can't you get a move on?" Lydia snapped and Stiles grinned at her.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. I'm gettin' to it."

"Where? Is? Derek?" Lydia bit out.

"Oh! _H__im,_" Stiles growled and everyone gaped at him.

He acted as though he forgot why they were there!

"Well, I think we might have a _liiiiiittle _problem."

"What happened?" Boyd asked.

"Hunters, that's what happened," Stiles shrugged and shifted his weight as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Derek can handle Hunters," Mellissa said.

"Not Hunters who have a Medjai in their midst," Stiles corrected her and the Pack tensed up. "Well, he's not a _Medjai_, per se. He knows _some_ magic, but it's almost like he was trying to learn it all on his own. I could _swear_ I met him somewhere before," he pouted and tilted his head to the side thoughtfully.

"Is he like you?" John asked and Stiles grinned at him.

"Nah! He's hardly a Level One. He's good enough to cover up their tracks and hide them from Werewolves, but he's nowhere _near_ my Level."

"Then where is he, _oh great one,_" Jackson growled through his teeth only to pale when Stiles smirked at him.

"Didn't you have enough, Jacks?"

"Stiles…"

"They're 5 miles…" Stiles turned on his heel, right arm flailing for a moment, "_that_ way." He said and pointed one long, elegant finger towards the setting sun. "There were 17 of them when they came after Derek. He put up quite a fight, but 17 Hunters with pretty good taser guns? They'd put an elephant to sleep." He finished and started to walk towards West with hands pushed deep inside the pockets of his jacket. He stopped and threw a look over his left shoulder when no one followed.

"You going?" he asked and raised an eyebrow.

The Pack exchanged glances before they shifted as one, and Stiles grinned at them.

"One question before we leave," Lydia spoke seriously and Stiles raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you love him?"

Stiles yelped and tripped on thin air. "What?" he squeaked, and Lydia rolled her yellow eyes.

"Do. You. Love. Him. Do I need to spell it out for you?"

Stiles bent over backwards before he turned his hips and legs, and bowed forward with his eyes focused on the ground, before he bowed his head a little so that his bangs covered darkened orbs, casting shadows over them. "Why does it matter?" he asked in a low, hollow voice.

Lydia snorted and rolled her eyes again. "'Course it matters. There's no use saving him if you'll just break him again when you decide you want to leave us again."

Stiles raised his head, making everyone tense up when they caught sight of harsh, yellow eyes. _"I've walked through __hell__ to get stronger," h_e pressed out through his teeth in a distorted voice and Lydia choked up, suddenly unable to move as she faced rage radiating from gold eyes. _"I _**_left _**_to get stronger. I _**_left _**_to get better. I _**_left _**_to get strong enough for him to _**_want me_**_. You think I would just _**_leave _**_after everything I've lived through. The only thing keeping me _**_alive _**_and _**_sane _**_during the training was my love for _**_him_****!**_"_

Lydia turned human again and her knees met the ground. Stiles walked over to her and bowed down so that his eyes looked directly in Lydia's wide ones.

_"Don't you _**_dare _**_snap at __me__, Lydia Martin. You've ignored me for the better part of our lives, Jackson belittled me every chance he could get, Boyd couldn't stand my living, Erica hated me for something that wasn't even my fault, Allison stole all of Scott's attention from me, Scott _**_lied _**_to me and forgot about me, and Peter tried to kill me. My _**_dad _**_is the _**_only _****_one _**_among all of you that has _**_any_**_ rig__ht __to be angry with me. As for Derek?"_Stiles smirked and chuckled darkly._"Well. How we go on from here is _**_entirely _**_up to him. I changed, _**_Lydia_**_. Let's see if I'm good enough for him now." _He straightened and Lydia finally managed to breathe as Stiles turned his back on her.

"That was never the problem," she breathed out and Stiles stopped in his tracks. "You were always, _always_ too good for _him_. Don't you get it, Stiles?!"

"Lydia..."

"No, Jackson!" Lydia snapped at her mate, looking at Stiles with eyes full of sorrow and pain, imploring the powerful creature to listen to her although he had his back turned on everyone. "I don't care if he kills me, he _has to hear this!" s_he insisted and slowly stood up. "Derek never offered you the Bite, he never told you that you are his Mate, because _you_ were always, _always_ too good for _him_. _You_ _didn't have to change!" __she cried out, trembling like a leaf in the wind,_ tears trailing down pale cheeks as she finally spoke the words which rested on her soul for far too long. "You didn't have to become this – this terrifying, omnipotent _Medjai_ to get his attention! He kept you at arm's length because he _knew __that_! He knew that he would never be good enough for you! He _loves you, __Stiles_! _He always loved you_!"

Silence settled over the clearing as the sun set.

For a few moments nothing could be heard.

All of a sudden Stiles chuckled, making everyone tense up. Their hearts stopped when his chuckling grew louder, and a moment later he threw his head back and laughed.

"Stiles!" John moved forward but Peter wrapped his arms around his Mate's waist to hold him back. All of a sudden a wave of power broke out of Stiles and danced around him like a tornado of stardust.

His laugh wasn't a happy one.

It was so cynical, so filled with pain and sorrow that the Pack felt as though a hand made out of steel was gripping their hearts. He stopped laughing and bowed his head with his shoulders shaking.

"He _always loved me_?" he choked out between snickers, and everything stilled, but that strange stardust still danced around him. "Why didn't he _say_ anything? Why didn't he..."

"Why didn't you?" Mellissa stepped out. Lydia looked at the older woman when she placed her right hand on Lydia's left shoulder. "You loved him as well, Stiles. Why didn't you tell him?"

The stardust stilled and the wind carried it away as Stiles chuckled again. "We're idiots," he whispered into the wind, hands unclenching as he tilted his head back to look at the sky, and every gaped when they caught sight of a single tear trailing down one pale cheek. "We're both just stupid, idiotic, love sick fools." He swallowed difficultly, bowed his head, and rolled his shoulders. "Come on," he said and started to walk forward. "Let's get our Alpha back."

"_Our_ Alpha?" Isaac asked hopefully while the rest of the Pack smiled and shifted again.

"Yeah, pup," Stiles murmured. "_Our_ Alpha. Move out!" he snapped, crouched and jumped into the air leaving a trail of emerald green teardrops behind.

The Werewolves grinned and howled.

The Hale Pack was ready to Hunt.

United at last.

**cut**

Stiles grinned as he crouched lower on the highest branch of the canopy he was hiding in. The Pack was scattered beneath him strategically, waiting for the information he could give them. His eyes glowed silvery blue for a second and the wind danced through his short hair, making his necklaces clink against one another.

"There are only 22 Hunters, plus the Medjai," he whispered into the wind. "They are heavily armed though, so you should be careful. Leave the wanna-be-Medjai to me." He received 10 confirming answers.

"You be careful, son." John said and Stiles snickered.

"Don't you worry, daddy dearest," he grinned as his eyes turned fiery red. "This will be _fun,_" he hissed and the air around him snapped with electricity. "This will be _so. Much. __Fun__…_"

**cut**

The door of the old forest Mansion suddenly slammed open, and the Hunters that were sitting around fires in the torn down house looked up in shock only to gape when they saw a twenty-something _kid_ standing in the doorway almost nonchalantly with hands in pockets and an insane grin on the elf-like face.

"Sorry to crash the party, but I think you have something that belongs to us!" he called out and the Hunters grabbed their weapons.

The one closest to Stiles frowned at him. "I don't think so, _kid_. We have nothing that might belong to you. Why don't you run home to mommy?" The Hunter said only to gape when Stiles tilted his head back and his eyes glowed fiery red.

"Oh, me thinks you do," Stiles whispered darkly, the tone of his voice sending shivers down everyone's spines.

In that moment ten pairs of yellow eyes glowed behind Stiles, and threatening growling made the Hunters tens up.

"We want our Alpha back," Stiles said with a huge, evil grin stretching full lips.

The Pack slowly walked into light and Stiles snickered before his head snapped forward and he looked at the Hunters through messy bangs.

"_Fetch_."

The Hunters started shooting arrows and Wolfsbane bullets left, right and center while the Werewolves jumped around engaging in close combat.

Stiles walked right down the middle as though he was taking a stroll in a park. A Hunter tried to stab him with a knife but Stiles simply danced out of its way before he appeared well in the man's personal space and placed his hand on the Hunter's chest. The man's breath hitched in his throat as all air was sucked out of his lungs. He choked as he gazed with wide eyes in Stiles' icy-blue orbs, and Stiles snickered.

"Nighty night," Stiles sang, and the Hunter fell down dead.

Stiles snickered and continued on his way. He skipped down the stairs towards the basement. He heard shuffling in the front and hummed. A door appeared some 10 meters in front of him and he stopped in his tracks.

Everything went quiet on the other side of the door, and he bowed his head suddenly growing serious. The air shifted around him and his eyes darkened to almost black. He snarled, the right corner of his lips rising and showing an accented fang. The air shifted around him faster and he growled, baring white teeth.

It was whispering to him.

The air was telling him what the Hunters did.

They took Derek.

They tortured him.

And the air told him who was waiting for him on the other side.

Stiles slowly started to walk forward as his mind came to a sharp focus for the first time in four years.

He _dared_ touch what was _his_.

Last time _he_ was lucky enough to get away, but this time?

This time he would _die_.

The door slammed open and Stiles vanished in a gust of silvery mist.

"There's no one there!" a Hunter shouted.

"Close the door, you idiot!" an elderly voice snapped and the door was slammed closed.

A low, threatening chuckle echoed down the stone hallway.

_"Nothing can save you now."_

**cut**

Derek groaned as he woke up. He could hardly breathe, let alone move. His whole body felt heavy. He frowned when the sounds of gunfire, snarling and growling reached his ears. His nose twitched when a familiar scent tickled it, and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Close the door, you idiot!" the Leader of his captors snapped.

Derek smirked a little when he felt a gentle caress against his brow, and he finally recognized that scent. A threatening chuckle echoed through the room.

_'Stiles.'_

"What was that?" one of the Hunters snapped when snickering echoed around them.

_'Come on, Derek,'_ he thought as he fought to open his eyes. His blood was saturated with Wolfsbane and Mountain Ash, but it was not enough to kill him. It was enough though to slow down the healing process and make him weak.

_"Oh, blade you'll warm tonight!"_

The Hunters around Derek tensed up when a whisper echoed through the room. It sounded so loving and gentle that Derek felt a shiver run down his spine.

"What was that?" a Hunter asked.

"I can't see anyone!" another shouted.

"Calm down, you fools!"

The chuckle sounded again. _"Awash in crimson-purple flows, your sheen will dull with aching flesh: palpating anatomic mounds; caressing, dancing, writhing round."_

"Show yourself!" the first Hunter screamed and fired a shot into the shadows, and laughter echoed around them.

_"Your meal form-whetted 'gainst a lonely bone, then to probe the pounding, begging heart."_

Derek managed to open his eyes, but everything was blurry. Just as his sight came into focus, he saw a shadow detach itself from a wall, materializing into Stiles. The Medjai grinned and winked at Derek as he snapped a man's neck, only to disappear again.

"MARK!" a Hunter screamed and fired another shot into the shadows.

"Calm down, you IDIOT! Calm down! Whoever it is he's in here somewhere! He can't hide forever."

Derek tried to swallow but his mouth was dry.

_"And all the while the prey will howl before the crumple; greet the mud."_

The three remaining Hunters stood back to back with _him_ in the middle. Derek chuckled and the Hunter that was facing him looked at him as though he was insane.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?!" he screamed and Derek smirked at him, his eyes flashing red for a second.

"There's no running away from him," Derek murmured and Stiles chuckled. Derek shivered when he felt a gentle touch against his back, and warmth spread down his body.

"Where is he?! Tell us!"

In that moment Stiles appeared in front of Derek and the Hunters turned quickly, aiming their guns at him. He grinned and waved his right hand as though he was greeting old friends.

"Hello, Gerard!" he greeted merrily. "Fancy seeing you again!"

The old man's eyes widened for a second before he frowned and sneered. "You," he snarled. "Should have known it was _you_. It's always _you_ saving these monsters."

Stiles cackled and spread his arms to the sides. Derek gasped when he heard water rushing through pipes. "I think you're referring to the wrong people here, Argent," Stiles drawled mockingly.

_'Take a deep breath, my dear Alpha.' _Derek's eyes widened when Stiles' voice caressed his mind. _'Things are about to get wet.'_

Derek trembled and tried to calm his quickly beating heart.

"You see…" Stiles spoke lowly as the sound of oncoming water grew louder and louder. "_Werewolves_ are not the monsters here." Stiles grinned and the Hunters in front of him paled when his eyes glowed a deep aquamarine blue. _"I am_**."**

In that moment the water burst from the pipes in tendrils and wrapped around the three Hunters in front of Gerard. It slithered around their bodies and into their mouths, muffling their screams. Gerard turned tail and ran, and Stiles turned on his heel and looked Derek over with a dark frown on his face.

"Damn, Big Bad," he muttered and threw Derek a small smirk, although there was something that resembled sadness in his eyes. "They did a number on you."

"Get me out," Derek murmured. "There are more. Gerard is…"

"Don't worry," Stiles said and snapped his fingers.

Derek groaned in pain as the shackles that were holding him upright snapped open and he fell forward, only to fall into Stiles' awaiting arms.

"The kiddies have taken care of the Hunters. Gerard won't get far." Stiles secured his arms around Derek and the Alpha rested almost his full weight on Stiles.

"Thank you," he said and Stiles raised an eyebrow. "For coming for me. Thank you."

Stiles grinned wildly and Derek's heart skipped a beat. "You'd do the same for me." Stiles started to practically drag Derek out of there.

Derek chuckled and did his best to walk. "I would, Stiles. I would." Stiles snickered just as they reached the stairs and climbed them as fast as they could.

"STILES! PROBLEMS!" Scott's voice reached them and Stiles snorted.

"Be a good doggy and wait here," he said and lowered Derek on the floor.

"Stiles!" Derek called out weakly and grabbed Stiles' hand before the Medjai had a chance to run off. "I just – What I – What I wanted…" Derek's breath hitched in his throat when a pair of soft lips covered his and small but surprisingly sharp fangs cut into Derek's bottom lip.

His eyes were wide when Stiles moved back a little, a few drops of Derek's blood glistening on full lips. A tongue flickered out to lick them off and Stiles grinned at Derek.

"Wait right here for me, Sourwolf," Stiles said, and a smile Derek thought he would never see again decorated Stiles' handsome face. "We'll talk later."

And before Derek could get a grip of himself Stiles was gone. 'Later,' Derek thought and a small smile tilted his lips. 'There will be _later_.'

**cut**

"Jackson!" Lydia shouted in panic as Gerard directed a Wolfsbane root towards Jackson's heart. Time seemed to slow down as the Pack froze in mid motion.

'This is it. I'm dead,' Jackson thought. In that moment something slammed into him and Jackson appeared on the other side of the room, wrapped in Stiles' arms, breathless and about to puke.

"I thought I told you to leave this wanna-be-Medjai to me," Stiles spoke as he dumped Jackson on the ground and walked with a light step towards the middle of the room.

The Pack backed away while Gerard sneered at Stiles.

"So it's true. You're the _Medjai_ I've been hearing about."

Stiles grinned and flailed his arms in a flashy bow. "Yours truly," he sang and straightened. "And you're still the old, self-righteous, motherfucking son of a bitch I not-so-fondly remember. I think I still have a scar under my hair from when you tried to punch a hole in my head."

Gerard sneered at Stiles and the Wolfsbane around him slithered to life. Stiles grinned and clapped his hands cackling madly with eyes wide with excitement.

"You won't kill me, _boy_. I _know_ you won't."

Stiles snickered and shifted his weight. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward with an insane grin stretching full lips. "You're right. I won't kill ya!" he said and everyone besides Gerard tensed up. "You aren't a _real_ Medjai, but you _technically_ are one, and the law of the Covenant forbids me from killing you since I'm a Medjai of a _much_ higher Level." Gerard frowned at that and Stiles snickered before his eyes went cold and his grin turned evil. _"That still won't stop me from kicking the living daylights out of you,"_ Stiles spoke in a distorted voice and Gerard attacked him.

The Pack was left breathless as they watched Stiles fight. He twisted and turned, slid and jumped with so much ease it appeared as though he was dancing a well practiced, synchronized dance. He would deflect Gerard's attacks as though they were nothing with just a wave of his hand. It seemed like Stiles was waiting for something. The Pack looked at Gerard and all of a sudden they realized what Stiles was waiting for.

The man was old.

Stiles was waiting for Gerard to tire out.

"Gotcha," Stiles hissed with a grin. He straightened and raised his hands as his eyes glowed icy blue, and Gerard was thrown back into a wall. He crumbled down in a dead faint and Stiles grinned brightly. "Pretty good, old man," he sang. "But not good enough." He looked around at everyone and tilted his head to the side with a small confused frown.

"What?" he asked.

John laughed and everyone looked at him before they looked at Stiles again. "Nothing, son." John looked at Stiles with pride filled eyes. "You're just… You're _amazing_." Stiles grinned at him. "Where's Derek?"

"Right here." A weak voice made them all turn around to find Derek leaning weakly against a doorframe. He was pale and his face was sweaty, his naked torso was covered in cuts and bruises, but he was alive.

That was the only thing that mattered.

Stiles grinned at Derek while Scott and Isaac ran over to their Alpha to help him walk.

"We fixed this up like a piece of cake," Stiles grinned and Derek chuckled.

"I'd say a job well done," he praised and Stiles' grin grew bigger.

"You've trained them well."

Derek's eyes warmed. "Didn't want you to come back and find half of us dead."

Stiles snickered, while the others rolled their eyes.

"Could you two flirt later?" Lydia asked as she cleaned her nails with a nail file she pulled out of god knows where. "I'd like to get home as soon as possible. Maybe I'll manage to see the last 45 minutes of _The Notebook_. It's on tonight."

Everyone rolled their eyes at that.

Even Stiles.

The Medjai looked at Derek again and walked towards him. "Hand him over," he said to the two Betas holding Derek up. "You two look dead on your feet." Isaac and Scott smirked at Stiles before they allowed him to take Derek from them.

"Let's get going," John said. "We still need to burn this place down."

"What about Gerard?" Allison asked. No one wanted to spare a glance for the old man so they just looked at Stiles.

"The Rules of the Covenant forbid me from killing him," he sighed before grinning evilly. "But it says nothing against him dying in a fire started by Werewolves." He received smirks for those words.

"It doesn't forbid _me_ from killing _you_!"

"STILES!"

Everything appeared to happen in slow motion.

Stiles looked away from Derek in time to see a single Wolfsbane vein darting towards him. His breath was kicked out of his chest when Derek grabbed Stiles and spun them around.

Stiles' eyes widened as the vein pierced Derek's heart. A gunshot echoed through the old Mansion as Stiles grabbed Derek's heavy body and lowered him on the ground.

In that moment countless sounds filled Stiles' mind. His heart started beating loudly in his ears and his breathing became short and shallow. "No, no, no, no. You can't do this. You can't die on me, Derek. You can't die. Derek!" he snapped as he cradled the Alpha's head in his hands.

Derek was choking on his own blood and his eyes were glowing red as his heart and lungs tried to work around the thick Wolfsbane vein sticking out of his chest.

"Derek, look at me. You can't die, you hear me!" Their eyes met as Stiles caressed Derek's face with his shivering hands. "You can't die on me now! I didn't go through Hell and back for you just to have you die now!"

Derek tried to say something but it only resulted in painful, choked up coughs.

The Alpha raised his left hand weakly, trying to touch Stiles' face. Stiles saw it, grabbed it with his right, and placed it on his cheek, covering it with his own hand. "You can't die, Derek. You can't die."

"Thanks." Derek managed to press out. "Thanks for – for coming for me – thanks for saving… "

"No! You're the one who's supposed to save me, remember?!" Stiles snapped as tears gathered in his eyes. "You're supposed to snap at me, and push me against walls, and – and bully me, but in the end – in the end you're the one who's supposed to save _me_."

A small smile tugged on Derek's bloody lips as his eyes faded to their usual enchanting hazel color. "You were always – you were always the one saving _me,_" Derek whispered as his eyes started to dull and his body gave up on him.

"No," Stiles blurted out when Derek's hand slipped from under his and hit the ground. The light vanished from Derek's eyes as he went limp.

Stiles' mind stilled.

His heart skipped a beat.

His breath felt like acid in his lungs.

"No."

He didn't hear the pained howls of the Pack.

He didn't see their tears.

All he could see was Derek's pale face; his lifeless eyes.

And something in him snapped.

The Pack gaped when Stiles' eyes glowed pearly white.

_"I'm not letting you die, Derek Hale, you hear me?! You're NOT dying on me!"_

Stiles' power snapped around him. His blood-red jacket was torn to shreds. The vein sticking out of Derek's chest dissolved into ashes and scattered into the wild current around Stiles.

Stiles placed his hands on the wound in Derek's chest and the center symbol on his back glowed. The tattoos on his skin turned pearly white and a light shone under his hands.

_"I'M NOT LETTING YOU DIE!"_

**cut**

Derek woke up with a start and looked around frantically.

"Easy, nephew." Peter pushed Derek down on the bed, and Derek looked around, realizing that he was in his room at the Hale House.

"What happened?" Derek winced, and Peter helped him drink some water. He took a seat beside Derek and the Alpha frowned at him. "Uncle? What happened?"

Peter's lips tilted into sad smile as he stared at his nephew with something Derek couldn't name shadowing his Uncle's eyes. "We lost you there for a moment," Peter spoke quietly, and Derek's heart stopped beating as memories flooded his mind.

"Stiles."

Peter's eyes dulled. "Derek-…"

"Uncle, where is Stiles?" Derek asked and pushed himself up again.

"Derek, I don't think you should…"

"Where is he?!" Derek roared and Peter recoiled.

"My room,." Peter said and Derek jumped out of bed. He rushed down the hallway to the last room to the right and barged in only to lose his breath and footing.

John stood up sharply and turned around, making it possible for Derek to miss the still, pale form of Stiles Stilinski. The rest of the Pack was in the room as well but Derek couldn't see them. He walked in and fell to his knees beside the head of the bed.

Peter walked in behind Derek and placed his left hand on the small of John's back. The Sheriff leaned on him as tears filled his eyes.

Derek could hardly breathe.

They laid Stiles on top of the covers with his right hand resting on his stomach and his left on the bed by his side. His head was tilted towards Derek. His heart was hardly beating. His breathing was practically nonexistent. His once sandy pink lips were almost blue. The tattoos on Stiles' skin were just empty ink now. They weren't glowing with the Spark anymore.

Derek was afraid to touch Stiles. He was afraid to touch the pale skin because he knew - he just _knew_ it was as cold as ice; as cold as _Death_.

"Deaton told us," Lydia whispered. "Stiles went over the line. He wasn't just a Level Five. He mastered Life and Death, and he used it." Derek didn't need to look at her to know that she was crying. "He used it and now…"

_"Wrong, Child."_

Derek looked up when the room filled with the scent of Incense and a tall figure appeared in front of them, standing on the other side of the bed.

He seemed barely corporeal. His body seemed to be made out of endless particles that were constantly shifting and turning. His eyes were covered by a white hood but Derek could see three triangles under his right eye that Stiles had as well. The man sighed and took a seat on the bed.

_"Zéev Al Abaddon,"_ he muttered. _"I do believe that you have proved us all wrong."_

"Who are you?" Derek spoke brokenly and the man chuckled.

_"I am Zéev's mentor,"_ he said. _"I am Shahzad."_

"You are a Master Medjai," Peter breathed out and Shahzad chuckled.

_"That is correct."_ Shahzad reached up to gently caress Stiles' forehead with the tips of his fingers. _"I was the one who taught Zéev the ways of the Medjai. I must say that he not only proved me and my brethren wrong, but he exceeded all of our expectations."_

"What's wrong with him?" Derek asked and Shahzad sighed.

_"Zéev used his Spark to bring you back to life. He used his power over Will to make you heal. We believed that to be impossible - that only a Medjai who has mastered Life and Death can do such a thing." _Shahzad snorted and shook his head. "_You have proved us all wrong, my Little Firecracker."_

"But if he's not of that Level then why is he – why is he dying?" Scott asked.

_"Zéev has exhausted his Spark. He used everything he had to make it possible for you to live, young Alpha. I only hope you know just how much love it took for Zéev to hold for you to make it possible."_

Derek gulped, licked his lips, and looked at Stiles' face. "Will he – Will he be alright?"

_"Zéev is strong."_Shahzad answered. _"I remember countless times when I was forced to make his training harder just to exhaust his apparently unending energy." __He remembered fondly. __"Usually it wouldn't take him long to recover, but I do believe that __this __time he will need some help."_

Derek didn't even need to think about it. "What do I need to do?"

Shahzad sighed and looked at Derek, the Alpha's eyes widening when he found himself staring into a pair of completely white orbs. _"Love him."_ Derek frowned in confusion. _"Love him as much as he loves you. People are often deluded with thoughts that love is a weakness. It is in fact the most powerful feeling in the world. It made it possible for Zéev to survive the Medjai training. It made it possible for him to master the Five Elements. It made it possible for him to convince us to let him out. We were wrong about him, you see? We had thought that he would be a Destroyer when in fact he turned out to be Life itself."_

"How do you mean that?" John asked.

_"Did he not tell you what his name means?"_ Shahzad questioned them.

"No. He never had the chance," Derek answered.

_"We have named him Zéev Al Abaddon; Wolf of Destruction. His destructive power was so immense that we simply neglected to see his heart. His heart which to this day remained as pure and full of love as it was when he first came to us."_

"Why did you come here?" Peter asked. "I thought Master Medjai couldn't leave the Sanctum."

_"We have kept a close eye on Zéev ever since he left. When we saw what he had done, how he had risked everything to bring the one man he had ever truly loved back from the brink of Death, we have decided that one of us would come and correct the wrong we have done."_

He placed his hand on Stiles' chest right over his heart, and pure white light radiated under his hand.

_"Zéev Al Abaddon," __Shahzad spoke firmly, although his voice was laced with tenderness.__ "You have earned this new chance I am gifting you with. Hereby I change your name, and thus I change your Purpose. Your name among the Medjai shall be Brachá Al Dilán - Blessing of Love - since your own love's blessing made your Will come true."_

Stiles' tattoos started to glow and shift on his skin. Their lines grew softer and thinner and the three triangles under his right eye turned to three small circles. The light faded and Stiles' heart started beating just a little bit faster. Shahzad sighed and caressed Stiles' cheek again.

_"I hope we never meet each other again in this world, Little Firecracker."_Shahzad looked at Derek and his lips tilted into a thin smile. "_Take good care of him, young Alpha. Let the past rest and look forward to what is yet to come."_ Shahzad started to disappear.

"Wait! You didn't tell me…" Derek called out, but it was already too late.

Shahzad was gone and only the smell of Incense and the vivid memory in their minds proved that he had been there at all.

"Derek…"

"Out," Derek bit out and climbed to his feet. "Please. I need – I need to be alone with him for a moment."

Without another word everyone stood up and left.

"Bring him back to us, Derek," John begged and Derek spared him a glance over his left shoulder.

"I will."

John nodded and closed the door.

Once they were alone, Derek took a seat on the bed, and leaned over Stiles with his elbows on either side of Stiles' head, aligning his lips with Stiles' right ear.

"I've always loved you, Stiles," Derek whispered under his breath. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, heart pounding in his ears. "I've _always_ loved you. Even when I was pushing you away, even when I was trying to chase you as far away from me as possible, I've always, _always _loved you. When you left, I – I almost lost it. When you left it was only the Pack that held me together. They gave me the strength to wait for you. I _still_ have the last message you've sent me saved in my phone."

Derek swallowed although his mouth was dry, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

"I promised myself every night that once you came back I would talk to you. I promised myself a thousand times that I would tell you - that I would give everything I have to make you stay, even if you never loved me in return. I would have been happy knowing you were with us and safe."

He nuzzled his cheek against Stiles', as tears stung his eyes.

"And then you came back, and you made that _stupid_ comment about Shahzad, and the only thing in my mind was that you had someone else, that I had missed my chance. I got so angry, but not with you. I got angry with myself."

He buried his nose in Stiles' neck and breathed in Stiles' unique scent.

"Please, Stiles..." Tears escaped his eyes, but he wasn't even aware of it. "Please, come back to me. I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. You make it all go away; the guilt, the anger, the pain - everything. I don't care that you've changed. I don't care that we have thousands of things to discuss and fix. Please." He moved back a little and looked at Stiles' sleeping face.

Long lashes rested upon pale cheeks, and his breath fanned over Derek's face with each slow deep breath he took.

"I love you, Stiles Stilinski; Brachá Al Dilán," Derek choked out and a tear rolled down his face to land on Stiles' soft lips. "I love you."

Derek leaned down and kissed Stiles, trying to pour every single piece of love he had in his heart in that single, chaste kiss.

He moved back a little and looked at Stiles' face, trying to find the slightest change. His heart sunk and he gasped out a breath, resting his forehead on Stiles' chest.

"Hey there, Sourwolf."

Derek's heart stopped and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Why so sad?"

Derek's head snapped up and his eyes met open, tired orbs of the most beautiful brown color Derek has ever seen in his life.

Stiles was awake.

He was smiling.

His eyes were full of warmth.

His heart was beating strongly in his chest.

Color was slowly but surely returning to pale cheeks.

"Stiles?" Derek's voice broke and the younger man chuckled lightly. Derek looked into those warm eyes seeing the traces of the old Stiles surfacing.

"Hey," Stiles said again.

Derek couldn't speak.

He couldn't think of anything to say.

All he could do was stare at Stiles' perfect, cinnamon orbs, breathe in his scent and enjoy the strong beating of Stiles' heart.

Stiles chuckled lightly again and Derek focused on those amazing eyes.

"Do I need to be in a coma for you to be able to say something? 'Cause that can be…" his words were stolen when Derek leaned down and captured Stiles' lips in a heart wrenching, emotion filled kiss. Stiles moaned into Derek's mouth and wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders, holding on for dear life.

The kiss was filled with love and promises.

It was filled with every bit of pain and doubt and sorrow they've lived through.

It was a promise that they would try to make things work again.

An oath that they would never exclude each other again.

But most of all it was a kiss that marked a new beginning.

It was a new day for the both of them; a new chance.

And if either one _heard_ the cheers that came from the ground floor or the loud 'pop' of the opening of several champagne bottles, they simply chose to ignore it.

Later they would celebrate together.

Later they would talk.

For now none of that mattered.

Nothing but their love.

And that they were finally together.

**cut**

**THE END**

**Now it's better.**

**Not so scary anymore, ne? ;)**


End file.
